DEAR DIRTY FEBRUARY. 91 



remaining alternative, which will account, I presume to think, 

 in a great measure for the discomfort voluntarily and freely 

 self-inflicted. 



As for the existing grievance of soil and weather, it merely 

 ranks among the petty causes that induce an Englishman to 

 maintain his privilege never so freely as in reference to fox- 

 hunting. He will grumble when rain falls freely ; he mutters 

 when the sun shines brightly. He uses deplorable language 

 when he is blown about by a gale of wind ; and he cries aloud 

 when frost brings fine weather. He hates a crowd ; and he 

 won't hunt in the provinces while he can afford himself place 

 in the tumult of the Shires. He rebels loudly against a "ring- 

 ing " fox ; yet it is not invariably " his day " when it happens 

 that a straight good point is achieved. Then, as to his mounts, 

 well, he seldom says much against them — for who knows when 

 they may be on offer ? But in his heart he has probably a 

 vivid grievance against every, unit of perfection in an expensive 

 stud. Such grievances are hidden, and accumulative — too 

 often in direct proportion to the age and purse-capacity of the 

 grievance-owner. At any rate, they won't bear analysis. 

 Altogether, methinks, foxhunting is a most fascinating and 

 enviable pursuit in the abstract. But in the practical form of 

 everyday experience it would seem to be beset with so many 

 difficulties, annoyances, shortcomings and drawbacks, that it is 

 a wonder so many men are found still guileless enough to 

 embark upon and cling to it. 



On Saturday the Cottesmore could not leave the kennels for 

 frOst, till another hour of rain had softened the roads. That 

 rain continued to pelt pitilessly till late in the afternoon. But 

 if driven disagreeably home to the feelings of the majority, it 

 proved more or less of a mercy to a hardworking official — for 

 the latter had got over all the disagreeable sensations of cold 

 water long before he encountered the shock of finding himself 

 in a deep pond. In common with several others he had 

 jumped a stile beneath a tree ; but, intent oh his hounds, saw 

 nothing of what the others had dodged away from, as one by 



